


Hew Thy Target From Thy Brawn

by Borusa



Category: Coriolanus - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Caning, M/M, Office Sex, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2834036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Borusa/pseuds/Borusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world of cut-throat high-finance, Alfie Carter of Antium Capital is reeling from the loss of the Coriolis deal. Little does he know that all is not well with his rival, Martin Harrison of Rome Finance. However, they have a history, and, it turns out, their career plans dovetail nicely.</p><p>Contains scenes of consensual D/s.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hew Thy Target From Thy Brawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [republic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/republic/gifts).



"We can't afford another loss like the Coriolis deal." Alfie Carter looked up from the sales projection figures, and around the board of Antium Capital. As the Head of Strategy, it was his inability to close on Coriolis that had put them in this situation, but as it was also his strategy that had got them to the point where they could even bid for it, he was still in the black as far as the rest of the board was concerned. 

"That was looking so promising." The Head of Marketing was a long-term supporter, but right at this moment, Alfie could do with him shutting up and the whole Coriolis deal debacle disappearing into the rear-view mirror.

"It was, but Martin Harrison at Roman Financial pulled something amazing out of the bag."

"Wasn't he your friend, back in the day?"

Alfie shook his head slowly. "No, we were never really friends. Just acquaintances."

* * *

 It was possibly the most excruciating evening in Alfie's eighteen years of existence. Worse than when he was in the school play dancing the hula and his grass skirt fell down, and for a long time he had thought that was the most embarrassing thing that could possibly happen to anyone.  It had taken a degree of courage to come along to the University's LGB-soc introductory social evening, but even at his most nervous, he hadn't expected it to be as awful as it was turning out to be. Everyone was trying so hard to be _supportive_ and _welcoming_ that it all seemed completely fake.  He leaned up against the bar, nursing a pint of over-priced lager and sighing. He was quite happy with being gay. He didn't need support, what he needed was somebody with a tight behind that he could fuck.

"Waste of time being here." As if in answer to his silent prayer, appearing from nowhere at the bar next to him was a tall man, about his age, with a chest that was so well defined it was threatening to cut through the too-tight white t-shirt he was wearing. "I'm Martin," he said. "And, I'm the "B" in the alphabet soup."

"Alfie Carter," Alfie said, smiling. "'G'"

They'd slept together that night. And... it had been fine. But Alfie knew he'd been holding back, and he felt Martin was too. The promised future date had never quite happened, and they'd settled for nodding at each other on the street when they passed, or an occasional wave across a crowded nightclub or bar. Sometimes, though, Alfie thought of Martin's bottom, when he was having a private moment. It was a _very_ trim bottom.

* * *

 "Alfie." His personal assistant, a young man with less ability than his sparkling eyes and mop of curly hair had promised, had entered his office. "A Mr. Harrison is here to see you."

Alfie frowned. Had he come to gloat? It seemed unlikely. “Show him in,” he said, checking his tie in his reflection in the window and running his hands over his short-cropped hair, before settling into his chair and flipping through a folder of documents in a carefully casual way.

Martin entered the room. Alfie didn't look up, but the room seemed to change, the air thickening noticeably. Eventually, after he felt he had waited long enough, he lifted his head. “Martin,” he said. “Good to see you.”

“Alfie. You're looking well.” Could it be that Martin was as nervous as he was?

“Congratulations on the Coriolis account.” There was no harm in being a good sportsman. To his surprise, though, Martin looked embarrassed, almost ashamed. “What?” Alfie asked. “Are you not getting the partnership at Rome?”

Martin shook his head slowly. “No. In fact, I've resigned. They told me that the staff didn't want me to be a partner. That I was too arrogant, too abrupt with them.” Just a hint of disgust there. “I swear, I never asked anyone to do something I wouldn't do myself.”

“I saw the work you did on that deal. I didn't think Rome had a chance at it, but you just thrashed us. So, what will you do now?” What are you doing here? The unasked question hung tangibly between them.

“I wondered, and I've no right to ask, but … is there any chance of a position here?”

“What kind of thing did you have in mind?” Alfie said.

Martin paused. “Well, I'd love to work under you.”

Was there a hint, there? A spark of interest? Alfie wished that Martin wasn't facing him, so he could see whether that bottom was still as appetizing as it had been all those years ago. He certainly hadn't let himself go – filling out his suit in a most pleasing way. “I run a tight ship,” he said, just leaning on the words a little. “People who take up positions beneath me … have to get used to a certain level of discipline.”

Martin was very still, watching him as closely as Alfie was studying him. “That's the kind of environment I'd love to work in,” he said, cautiously. “Although I'm used to running the show at Rome, I've always been happiest when I'm working with someone who provides strong leadership.”

That wasn't exactly subtle, but Alfie felt himself relax. They were on the same frequency, tuned in to the same signals. "Always?" he asked, curiously.

"Well... now, then," Martin said, flashing a grin that suggested that his gender-orientation wasn't the only thing that was flexible.

Alfie nodded. "I'm sure I can find something that suits your talents," he said, " ... for now, anyway."

"Thank you," Martin said.

"Thank you ... ?" Alfie left the end of the sentence deliberately hanging there, a hook for Martin to hang himself on. Which, Alfie felt, was a very pleasing image.

"Thank you ... sir." Martin bowed his head, his gaze just flicking up to Alfie, seeking approval.

"Very good." Alfie believed in rewarding good behaviour immediately. And drawing out the rewards for bad behaviour as long as possible. He stood, shifting his clothing slightly, not to particularly hide his nascent erection, but more so that he wasn't hobbling towards Martin bent half-over. It wasn't a good look. He walked in a slow circle, examining Martin closely, aware of the hunger in his own gaze, and the trembling mix of nervousness and excitement throughout Martin's body.  Gods, that bottom was still spectacularly hot. Alfie walked to the door and leaned around it. "James, Martin and I need to have a private conference - can you hold all calls and cancel my 2pm? Oh, and send to HR for the standard contract. Duties "as required"."

He closed the door and flicked the lock closed. It wasn't exactly secure, given that a slightly enthusiastic lean from a small child would cause it to break, but it was a barrier that not many would try to cross. "You really screwed me on Coriolis, Martin," he said, letting the genuine frustration he'd felt about it seep into his voice.

"Yes, sir. I'm not sorry about that, sir. There will be other deals that I'll win for you. Sir." Martin kept his eyes forward, and a little down. This clearly wasn't the first time he'd done something like this. Alfie was actually relieved about that - whilst taking inexperienced innocents and, ahem, showing them the ropes was ideal fantasy fodder, in practice it was always nerve-wracking. They rarely had an idea where their limits were, and as a result you had to be constantly alert to them accidentally tripping over one. It was rewarding in the end, yes, but the actual experience was tiring and worrying.

"I'm still going to have to ... reward you for it. There should be some consequence, don't you think? You can't pull off a coup like that, and then barely two weeks later come _crawling_ into my office begging for a job without some form of ... penance."

"No, sir. I wouldn't ... sir." There it was. Just a little spark of devil-may-care insolence. Alfie wanted to beat that out of him with an intense passion, and then ... then he hoped it would spring back to life, so that he could put it out again and again.

"Take your trousers down. And your pants, too, and leave them around your ankles. We wouldn't want you running away, would we?" Alfie moved to lean against the desk, slightly to one end. It was a good desk, old-fashioned, heavy wood with a leather panel. He'd paid a lot for it, even if it did look out of place in the modern chrome-and-metal office. He patted it thoughtfully, then went back to watching Martin undo his belt buckle, the leather sliding over his fingers in a fascinating way. There is almost no sexy way to undo the button on your fly, alas. The only thing to be said for it is that it is significantly less _un-_ sexy than trying to undo someone else's.  For once, Alfie didn't care about it. He just wanted to see what lay beneath. Martin didn't waste time lowering his garments one at a time, and Alfie just caught a glimpse of the black Calvin Klein's beneath the suit trousers before they reached their resting place around Martin's ankles. 

Alfie patted the desk next to him. "Face onto the leather," he said, taking the opportunity to watch Martin's cock, semi-hard, bobbing in the most interesting ways as he waddled to take up the indicated position. Martin's hands reached out to the desk's surface, supporting his weight as he lowered himself down, his bottom ... _that_ bottom ... thrusting high into the air. Alfie pushed himself up, walking behind Martin, his hand trailing behind him, just lightly touching the proffered skin and watching in delight as the muscles beneath tightened and then relaxed. Once he had got himself in position, his right hand at rest, just cupping one of those cheeks, he reached out with his and pushed on the back of Martin's head, fingers running through the short dark-blond hair, pressing his face into the desk. "You humiliated me," he said. "And we can't have that, can we?"

"No, sir." Martin's voice was muffled by the desk, but the quaver in it was unmistakable, as unmistakable as the erection pressing against the table edge.

Alfie drew back his hand, wanting to make the first blow light, but the nervous energy took over, and he landed it with more venom than he intended. The slap echoed around the office, and the impact wave spread deliciously through Martin's flesh. Martin exhaled loudly, a sigh more than a gasp. And now, having set a level, Alfie felt obliged to keep to it, and so the blows that followed, alternating between cheeks in an unvarying tempo, were equally fierce. His hand stung, but not near so much as the reddening skin on the target. Martin remained silent as long as he could, but the first cry escaped his lips about half-way through, a little squeak of pain, and once that dyke had been breached, the flood followed. Tears ran down his face. His cries got louder, and Alfie was grateful that James was discreetly keeping people away from the office. Or at least, he'd better be, if he didn't want to be leaning alongside Martin in short order. As he ended the spanking, Alfie thought that James probably _did_ want to be there, and that it was an idea well worth exploring in the future.

"Very good," he said, offering his hot palm to Martin's face. Martin, his tears not even drying on his cheeks, lifted his head and kissed Alfie's palm tenderly.

"Thank you, sir," he whispered.

"Whatever makes you think we're finished?" Alfie asked, devilishly. "My hand is just tired. In the corner of the room, in the umbrella stand, there are a number of canes. Go over there and pick one out for me to use on you."

"Yes, sir," Martin said, slowly rising. Alfie returned to his lounging position against the desk and watched him walk across the room. struggling with the binding around his feet. Alfie wondered if he really ought to keep calling it the 'Umbrella Stand', as it housed exactly one umbrella but half a dozen canes of varying thickness, length, and material. Still, a 'Cane Stand' was probably an unprofessional thing to keep in an office, and, additionally, he would need to find somewhere else to store his umbrella.

It always took them a long time to make this decision. Whilst there was an undoubted difference in sensation between the canes, it wasn't really sufficient to justify the effort they expended.  After a little while, Martin selected the fattest and heaviest cane there, and brought it back laid across his palms reverently.

"Good choice," Alfie said. It was a good choice, if you were brave and didn't mind about bruises. "This will mark you," he said, casually. "You'll look in the mirror and see where it has touched you for a good long while."

Martin couldn't quite hide the smile that flicked momentarily across his lips, and Alfie felt his heart jump. "Why did we not do this at University?" he asked.

"I didn't know how to ask, sir," Martin said, looking directly at him for the first time in a while. "I didn't know how to say 'will you stop reminiscing and cane my ass, sir'."

Alfie laughed, and took the cane from Martin's hands. He lightly tapped the end under Martin's chin, and then slowly traced a line over the suit jacket, and down his side, pausing just as the tip crossed from fabric to the skin on Martin's exposed thigh. Then he worked it inside, onto the inner thigh and up, to touch against the stiff cock pushing up against the hem of his shirt. "What a nice looking thing this is," he said. "I think we'll ban you from touching it for anything but hygienic purposes. Fair?"

"Yes, sir," Martin said, shivering.

"Good man. Back against the desk."

He prepared to administer the caning, tapping the thick wood against the offered behind, setting his aim. A gate, he decided. Four horizontal stripes, two diagonals to finish it off. "We need a strategy," he said. "A plan to get back at Rome Financial for what they did to you. To bring them to their knees, and then take over their assets. Bring them into the Antium Capital fold ..."

Just as he finished, he struck the first blow. Martin stiffened, gasping and then moaning, the skin welting immediately. To Alfie's pleasure, he had laid it exactly where he intended. He reset the cane, an inch above the previous strike.

"That would be fair, sir," Martin said. "And I have some ideas about how we can do it."

"No regrets ... " Alfie struck again, just a fraction off where he intended, but not sufficient to ruin his design. " ... no second thoughts?"

Martin was too busy sucking in air to reply immediately, and so Alfie added the third bar while he was considering his words, which of course delayed him from answering further. Alfie was just pondering the third bar when he answered. "No regrets, sir. No second thoughts. We make them pay. I never worked for them, sir. All my loyalty now is to you."

Alfie considered this while he completed the gate, and Martin was too busy clutching onto the edge of the desk, yelping when the last two blows landed, his bottom thrashing to and fro in the air and his cock twitching violently, to really manage coherent thought. "I guess," Alfie said, eventually, rubbing his palm across the tender skin, marvelling at the firm edges of the raised weals, "you'll be staying with me tonight." It wasn't really a question. He put the tip of the cane back under Martin's chin, and guided him up off the desk. "It is good to see you again, Martin." He stepped closer to him, putting aside the cane and reaching around to pull on that tender bottom. "And very good to have you here." He leaned in, taking advantage of Martin's discomforted moan to kiss his open mouth, his tongue thrusting inside him. With his free hand, he encircled Martin's rock-hard member, and started sliding his hand up and down. He broke away from the kiss. "I think you're going to fit into the team perfectly," he said.

Martin's reply left a mess on the desk, but Alfie didn't really object. Martin could clean it up in a couple of minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the usual culprits for the beta-ing. Welcome to yuletide, republic!


End file.
